


Tickets

by spottyflake



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:16:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spottyflake/pseuds/spottyflake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You came with me to see how much the tickets were even though you told me not to be so self conscious." AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tickets

High school. Okay, I understand your hatred and can smell it from ten miles away, but consider this; the high school Christmas DANCE.

 

Dresses and Tuxes. Shitty snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and a cheap ass pine tree looking Sad in the corner of the room. People take Photos; your face is Immortalized in your Senior Yearbook and you wonder why the Hell you did that Education Thing for six years of your Life. Like, why?

 

And WHY would you even consider the high school Christmas dance?

 

Because you know you won’t look Cool when you’re the only one that didn’t show up. People will know that you have no Love Life, or Friends and they may or may not sympathize with you.

 

And while I don’t give a fuck about that, I’d rather not see Photos plastered all over Facebook of stiff, mismatched Couples posing as Beards for each other and to NOT have been there, especially when Reiner spiked the punchbowl or when Sasha brought a potato along with her and it got squashed all over her dress and when Marco moshed like an idiot on the stage with his band playing shitty pop covers.

 

Geeks and nerds, the lot of them.

 

Ah, well you see, they would have lived the high school dance so no they’re not quitetoo School for Cool. People will Appreciate them. People will talk to them about the event and they may or may not make Small Talk with people that they never did before.

 

But it’s not like I even care about that. I just want to go. Like, for reasons. Maybe one of them is because Mikasa Freaking Ackerman is going and I kinda want to ask her todance. I will see her dress and act like a dork when I blush and feel the heat crawling up my neck. Prickly, up your spine: tendrils of heat.

 

Hormones. They’d take over and I’d probably send them in her direction, unintentionally, but also very much intentionally. That’s how pheromones work, mind you. And then she would be taken by my biology because she is a Female Human Being, we’d have chemistry and voila; kisses for Jean.

 

But there will be no kisses for Jean or stupid Photos that I will star in because whadoyaknow. No-one has their tickets at hand and they “don’t know the price of the tickets.”

 

They’ve bought these tickets. They do know.

 

“Click refresh on your memory,” I tell my comrades at the table of lunch. They don’t really bother to, no matter how much I plead them to and I guess it’s because no-one ever really cared about Jean Kirstein.

 

That sentence is going onto my gravestone. I’m going to haunt them all and Stab each of them with a Mattress in the middle of class, during intimate moments with their partners and especially during job interviews. Haunt them so I can steal all their socks and make them Late for school and work; eternally.

 

“Jean, just go and ask Erwin how much they are.”

 

“Jean, it’s not like he’ll bite your head off.”

 

“Jean, he’s head of the prom committee, he’s expecting you to ask him things like that.”

 

But no, no, Erwin Smith is either Tank of Steel or Hulk and I may have once heard him doing Certain things in a specific boys bathroom with a particular girl that everyone may or may not know as being utterly insane and obsessed with Warble Flies because one of them blinded her dad somehow, somewhere, not that I really care but you knowwhat? Erwin is. Just.

 

He’s just.

 

Too Friendly.

 

And there’s also the awkwardness of “You don’t know what I know but you can tell that something’s up and I’m acting weird around you but I’m not gonna tell you why”.

 

I don’t like nice people. They’re too Open and sometimes they invade your Personal space by doing that Touchy Feely Thing. You know the thing. If you don’t know the thing then you probably do the thing or you are Levi. Levi the misanthrope. The people displeaser. Clean freak, as Warble Fly girl refers to him as. 

 

“Stop being so self conscious, Jean. They’re just tickets and he’s just Erwin.”

 

Just. Just is such a passive aggressive word. I like it and there is joy in using it, but not when Eren says it in a patronizing manner as he does. Because he does not own the right to address Me in that way. I do. I have the paperwork and you are not allowed to sign it unless you have Pictures of Mikasa Freaking Ackerman Undressed. Or if you have cheesy nachos. I’m easily pleased, some would say. 

 

Across the table Eren rolls eyes the colour of the Mediterranean Sea at sunrise away from me, then turns his gaze back with Eyebrows burrowed like he’s actively trying to create creases between the two furry brown creatures. I call them Mini Chewbaccas. He’s doing a good job so far. Let’s hope his face stays like that when he’s old and wrinkly.

 

“I can’t. Talk. To. Erwin. I have Reasons.” I cross my arms and curl my lip upwards, knowing that I come across as grumpy and arrogant.

 

“He’ll be in his homeroom class, just go.”

 

“Make me.”

 

“Okay I’m making you. Now go.”

 

“Do I have to do this alone?”

 

“You’re the only one that doesn’t know the prices.”

 

I raise an eyebrow and gesture to the rest of the group. “Technically none of you guys do either-”

 

“We already bought ours so we don’t need to-”

 

“Look, I really don’t want to have to go by myself and I just want to know how much the freaking Tickets cost, is that so much to ask for? You know what, fuck it. I‘m not gonna go if you‘s are-”

 

Eren rises from his seat on the bench, a tanned arm reaches out to grab me from across the table and suddenly I am in the grasp of Eren Ass Jaeger. The little brunette has me by the wrist, swaggering ahead of me as we make our way across the cafeteria. To Erwin. This is mutiny.

 

I rip my wrist from his hand and recoil. Shudder because the asswipe touched me and is making me go see Erwin Smith. He looks back at me with that familiar frown except it’s not so familiar. This time when his Mini Chewbaccas crease they head upwards for a second and his eyes widen a few millimeters like I have committed Utter Offence.

 

“Dude.”

 

I cross my pale arms, gulping quietly as I look down at him and walk ahead of him.

 

“Come on then. I still have reasons. They‘re perfectly valid. But we‘re basically halfway there already.”

 

He hums questionably a step behind me, by my right shoulder. “Erwin is too nice in the ‘my smile is worse than my glare’ kind of way. It‘s weird and intimidating.” I explain.

 

Also, proximity. Erwin likes to touch people’s shoulders. I have personal space issues. Bubbles that are not to be popped. But of course, Eren has the needle that does exactly just that.

 

“You’re scared? It’s cool, Jean. I won’t tell anyone.” He notifies me as he pats me on the shoulder. It’s meant to be encouraging, I think. Probably pitying. Cry for Jean and his inability to talk like a normal person for more than a few seconds.

 

Me? Succinct? Or maybe even simply your usual monosyllabic teenager?

 

No, just suffering from a lack of prolonged Social Fluency.

 

Social Hesitance because sarcasm is underappreciated and under the Unwritten Law of Social Behaviour that one must not break by using.

 

I can only last so long before my urge to humor others takes over and my lack of Small Talk topics overwhelms me. It’s either that, or I resort to puns. Don’t make me do that to you. I’m not a people person, but I am a person person so I probably don’t mind you too much and really It‘s Me, Not You.

 

And then there’s Jaeger.

 

Met him on the first day of high school in homeroom, fell for his apparently Adopted Sister and told her she had Nice hair -well I had to say something when I caught her attention and I mean she said Thanks so it didn’t go so badly, right?- and then suddenly the next day her hair was a few inches shorter, Kudos to Eren Ass Jaeger.

 

Ah, to think I suggested we be friends. I had to wipe off the Germs on my hand from Eren’s handshake afterwards onto Connie. 

 

We tend to Fight a fair bit, me and Jaeger. Is it obvious? Normally he says something that rubs my the wrong way - the same way there is only one way to stroke a cat- and I end up telling him he’s speaking Shit and then he does this thing where he rises to the challenge. Physically. Figuratively. Metaphorically.

 

Is that what he’s doing right now? Standing outside Erwin’s homeroom class with me because he thinks this is some kind of contest? Yes, yes, let’s all compete to see howstupid freshman Jean looks in front of a bunch of Seniors.

 

I look inside the classroom and hooooly shit everyone is looking at me already. Like, why not look at Jaeger, come on guys; he’s fresh meat too. His eyes are bright enough to deflect the attention of someone watching some random person in the middle of the street with a neon pink hula skirt doing the Luau. 

 

Is that is a skill? A thing of sorts that you master? Not that I would Want that skill. But you know. It’s moderately impressive. For someone like Jaeger, anyway.

 

He’s not Actually all that impressive. Not grade wise, friend wise and Certainly not looks wise.

 

The things that have Happened to him, however… Well that’s a totally different story. The stories that he tells us about himself, when he can bring himself to, are kind of… I don’t know.

 

I can feel my eyes prickle with uncertainty and every part of my body is Screaming get the hell out of there, mission abort, GO. I jerk my head, telling him to go inside so that I don‘t have to. He shakes his head at me with a frown and Grabs me by the shoulders.

 

I’m yelping five ways to Sunday, fucking Paralysed in his arms because his hands are boiling and feel like Sandpaper. People keep staring and he made them stare even more because he just had to make a big Scene and-

 

Ooooh look it’s Erwin hey there buddy how ya doing Just came by to see you even though we’ve Never spoken to each other before in our lives and would you look at thatsitting next to him is the Raven Gremlin ha ha make sure you don’t feed it before midnight. Don’t get it wet or Dirty or he’ll mutate.

 

Eren nudges my shoulder, urging me to speak, and all I can hope is that he can’t feel the sweat Trickling down my back. Maybe it’s not even My sweat. Maybe he’s drooling on me.

 

I’m pretty sure he has a thing for Shorty, because his ears go red and he starts spouting Actual Nonsense when Levi‘s around, and who knows; maybe he Drools over the Odd sex appeal and I just happen to be at the bottom of the Fountain.

 

I never quite understood the laws of attraction, especially when I saw the girl Gremlin and the guy just fell to the floor like he was thinking ‘fuuuuck that shit‘s hot‘.

 

Yeah. That really fucked me up.

 

Since I’m lip locked with silence and my back is unbendingly straight, Eren goes onto his Tiptoes and peeks over my shoulder.

 

“Hey, Erwin. Ticket prices?” His breath tickles my neck.

 

By this point I’m practically melting in apprehension.

 

“Eight Dollars per ticket. You can get two for fourteen dollars if you buy them together.” He smiles blindingly, slicking his blonde hair back with chunky, manly fingers. You just keep those fingers to yourself, good sir.

 

“GREATThanksBye!”

 

My hand is grabbed with a vice-like grip and suddenly my feet are moving without my permission, body dodging between desks like we’re in a game of pinball, and out the door.

 

We’re in the middle of the hallway, he releases my hand and he walks backwards so he can shoot me a shit eating grin while I remember why humans breathe.

 

“See? Easy.” He chuckles breathily.

 

That had been… Very anti-climatic. Don’t Ever make me do that again. “Whatever.”

 

I shove my hands in my jean pockets and start trudging towards the direction of my locker, not wanting to bother going back to the Cafeteria and getting a bunch of “TOLD YA SO” from Everyone. Everyone meaning Armin, Mina, and Berthold. So many people, I know. I’m so Popular. 

 

“You know, a thank you would be nice.” 

 

Halt. Raise an eyebrow like a smarmy bastard, one that I am, I swagger back up to him and lift his Hand, pressing it to my forehead like you do with the Pope.

 

“I’m grateful, you little butt-fuck. Good on You for helping me out. For a moment there, I Almost appreciated your existence.”

 

His bewildered and Fushed face is definitely worth it when I look up and smirk. It’s all a liiiiie. I’m still recovering from an almost meltdown. Sure, I’m acting like a douche, but he’s not allowed to know how thankful I am. I have a nonexistent reputation to uphold. It’s quite a big responsibility to maintain.

 

Yes it matters, because this is High school. The fact that I thanked him at All is my Christmas gift to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk I just thought they needed to back each other up from time to time without things getting hot and heavy. ROMANCE IS CLICHE. Um.


End file.
